


The Last Loon

by MadameBizarre



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Comicverse, Doubt Abner will show up but tagging as Ducktales will get this out here better, brothers being brothers, headcannon heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBizarre/pseuds/MadameBizarre
Summary: Fethry never met his mother and Abner is more than willing to talk about her.





	The Last Loon

The temperature scarcely fell from the high one-hundred that morning. The sun was descending, slowly seeking cover behind thick Oak trees and squeezing it’s bright rays between heavy trunks. A beautiful pink and orange hue filled the sky, joined by fluffy clouds soon to change color once night fell over Duckburg. By the simple river were two beings: one standing like a lone guardian at the edge, while the other crouched as he closed a red Tackle box. He pointed to each bobber and every lure as he counted them, nodding when the job was done. With a metal clatter the box closed and he looked over his shoulder to the other who gently swayed their shoulders side to side as if a song was playing. Abner Duck smiled, finding comfort in his little brother’s odd habits that once annoyed him to no end. He found himself mimicking the movements as he stood -- groaning all the while from his aching knees. Four hours of standing by the river, never once finding reason to sit, and he regretted it now; standing just felt right when fishing, and some little voice in the back of his head said fish would come if he did. Fethry had sat, hiked up his jeans to sink his scrawny legs into the cool water, and received a scolding from the older sibling for scaring off the fish. He never did pull his feet out, at least not until an hour later, because in the end Abner could not be completely mean (not any more). Thus they only had three fish to take back, not much of a catch, yet Grandma would not mind.

When Fethry spoke, Abner had to ask him to repeat himself. “I asked if you and Ma ever went fishing.” 

“Yeah, a few times, but she’d rather swim than anything. Hated hurting the fish, always preferred trying to grab’em with her hands.” A sight he could still see: long, wavy, hair the color of straw all wet, loud giggling as skinny fingers tried to keep a fish in hand. Lulubelle Loon had looked like her maiden name sounded: loony. Dark freckles stretched from her large grin, and her eyes the same twinkling blue shade as the water she liked to be waist deep in. Abner could even hear her, stretching a hand out for him to take.

_ “Baby boy, come in here and help mama catch dinner for Pa.” _

He didn’t need to be told twice when she beckoned him, and that would hurt him in the future when a young Fethry would do the same, but only receive a snarl.

_ “Collect rocks with me, big bro!”  _ The young Fethry was only in his pants, shirt lost to the river for one reason or another. 

_ “You’re crazy, I ain’t gonna save you if the river takes you.” _

“But you’d hurt them in the end by taking them to eat.” Fethry turned so he was side to side with the water.

“Yeah, but something about hooking a fish an’ tearing it’s skin made Ma flinch. Said it was too mean.” Abner picked up the Tackle box and joined his brother’s side. The water was sparkling in the last rays of sunlight -- rocks and fish below shining like precious gems.

“I wish I coulda’ gone swimming with Ma.” 

He grimaced at those words, realizing now why Fethry had been quiet so far. The fading light stretched over their forms, almost too bright for their eyes. Abner’s were always narrowed though, it was just how his eyes were (like their father’s, obviously in need of glasses), and Fethry was foolish enough to just stare and no one knew whether or not it hurt him or he was just that passive. His dark gaze was not on the sun currently, instead the red-clad brother was gazing into the water. For a second Abner thought he would jump in fully clothed (not for the first time), and then it came to mind he could simply push Fethry in out of brotherly mischief. Neither of those things happened, because before a decision came, Abner found his reply.

“You did though, when she was pregnant.” He pointed a finger toward the river; Fethry lifted his eyes to his brother’s face, then followed where his finger laid. “She slid in with her dress on and caught the biggest fish I’d ever seen. Gave it a big smooch then released it back into the water.”

“Really?”

“Yup, she even thought of giving birth right in these waters, but Pa said he’d prefer it at home.” Abner grabbed his fishing pole from where it was standing deep in the dirt and gravel. “Ma said you helped her catch that sucker. You were kicking the whole time and got'em good right in the mouth.”

“Wow ...I guess I did.”

Grabbing his own fishing pole, Fethry nodded to the other and they began their walk back to Grandma Duck’s house. Side by side they appeared to be polar opposites, but deep within, and up close, they both toted the same nose their mother passed down and dark eyes their father owned. No one would guess them siblings unless they gave the duo a good look over or had seen their polar opposite parents. When he was a kid, Abner hated his little brother, finding him the weirdest, daftest, pest in the history of brothers, and now in his older age, he knew why. Fethry was in many ways just like their mother: a crazy, fun loving, country kid who found light in every situation. They shared the same giant grin, gleaming eyes, kooky ideas, and loud laughter that echoed through the trees like a song. Abner had hated that because right before her passing Lulubelle had given them her last gift: Fethry Duck. The last Loon in Duckburg. 

How dumb of him to have scorned his little brother who filled the dark hole their mother left. If he could, Abner would go back in time and smack his younger-self so hard, the bruise would still be on his skull in the future.

“Next time I’m grabbing the fish with my bare hands.”

“I think you’d do better that way than with a pole. You frown everytime you hook the worms.”

Fethry did just that, turning his face to Abner. “She was right, ya know. Even the worms don’t deserve to be pierced and torn.”

“Fethry, you are a Loon through and through -- ya know that?”

**Author's Note:**

> I love these polar opposite yet also similar brother ;; o ;;  
I just love Abner 'Whitewater' & Fethry Duck in general!


End file.
